Last night's Moon Knight was better than I expected, even better than last week's. The teleplay by Rebecca Kirsch and Matthew Orton had things I even loved though it also had the kinds of problems I would expect from something rushed. I loved the dynamic between Steven and Marc (Oscar Isaac) in this episode. I loved how you could read everything Steven says as something Marc says to himself or as an something a separate and independent character would say. It makes sense of the resentment Steven has for Marc and for any kind of violence. Steven is a mechanism to avoid confronting the reality of their abusive mother but he's also an internalisating of her implacable morality. Marc is forced to live in a world of greys while Steven has the freedom to see things in more black and white terms. I loved how Dr. Harrow (Ethan Hawke) actually gave him useful advice about opening up to himself. I wonder if there's anything actually of Harrow in him or if Marc's mind is just using his face. I wish a little more time could've been spent on the dynamics of Marc/Steven's family. I like the idea of him having an abusive mother but the way she's portrayed feels too much like an After School Special . I'd have liked some clues about how his father was handling the situation. Did he ever confront her? I wish Kirsch and/or Orton had not written Taweret, the hippo goddess, as incompetent. That felt a bit hackneyed. She's been doing this for thousands of years, there's no reason she should need cue cards. But in the main, I really liked this episode. I liked the bird skeleton Steven sees when chasing the kids into the cave, a little omen of Konshu or another thing to make the boundary between dream and reality less certain. I hope Steven is actually dead. As much as I like him, I want him to have the dignity of the episode's nicely tragic ending. Moon Knight is available on Disney+. Twitter Sonnet #1575 The time it ticks to crack a clock is one. The weak it breaks could foster depths of foam. To seek a debt in purses cut is done. The stranger's eye is sculpted straight from home. A rainy heat abused the drop of names. To walk in wind invites the mad to dunk. The man to think of crowns in hock remains. A metal gripper brained the heartless lunk. Decisive sand was changed for sugar dust. But grains of stone were never solid ground. A second colour claimed the name of rust. A Spanish song arranged the morning sound. A tiny bird could make you think of caves. But never blink to raid Egyptian graves.